drama and the dream life
my feet dangled over the acid filled hot tub. he lowered me in quickly, up to my knees. the pain was so extreme that my mouth filled with saliva, vomit jumped out of my throat. i was struggling so bad in the acid that my feet fell off and i was left with only exposed shin bones when i was finally pulled out. i lay on the side of the acid pool and the cats came to knaw at the exposed bone.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Monday, September 27, 2004
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Thursday, September 09, 2004
the dream?
we were sitting, two by two, on brightly colored cushions in some sort of a hippie, "let's talk about that emotion" workshop. i wasn't listening to the speaker, instead i was tring to figure out why i was in this looney bin and how long i had been there. i was slowly waking from the fog that i was in.
That's when i felt the girl behind me, the little asian girl with the bowl- cut hair, pushing on my back with her feet. the pain was terrible and she seemed to enjoy inflicting it on me. i turned around in the middle of the hippie speach and grabbed a fistfull of her shiney, blach hair and held her head as i punched her face- my knuckles cut on her teeth.
suddenly, i was being pulled away from the little asian girl who's smooth porcelain face was now smeared with red- kabuki makeup amuk- and i was satisfied.
we were sitting, two by two, on brightly colored cushions in some sort of a hippie, "let's talk about that emotion" workshop. i wasn't listening to the speaker, instead i was tring to figure out why i was in this looney bin and how long i had been there. i was slowly waking from the fog that i was in.
That's when i felt the girl behind me, the little asian girl with the bowl- cut hair, pushing on my back with her feet. the pain was terrible and she seemed to enjoy inflicting it on me. i turned around in the middle of the hippie speach and grabbed a fistfull of her shiney, blach hair and held her head as i punched her face- my knuckles cut on her teeth.
suddenly, i was being pulled away from the little asian girl who's smooth porcelain face was now smeared with red- kabuki makeup amuk- and i was satisfied.
Monday, September 06, 2004
oh, the trauma
about halfway through my second bottle, i declared to myself that champagne was, from that point on, my drink of choice.
i had started drinking shortly after i got out of bed, which sounds bad, but in reality it was three in the afternoon, so it was really quite reasonable. i wanted to drink because i was bored, and i couldn't think of anything else that would be as fun and which would require such little effort. so i got the bottles with big, fat corks that are impossible to put in once removed, which makes it necessary to finish the whole bottle before it goes flat so that no money is wasted, and it was about halfway through my second bottle that don called and said he was picking me up in five minutes.
i downed the rest of the bottle and waited.
the water felt good on my skin. my senses were hightened. the grittiness of the cement on my bare behind, the tiny air bubbles tickling my body as they escaped to the surface of the hot tub. my soul was peaceful. meanwhile, my body was waring.
i don't know why i was so angry at the girl, or why i attempted to kill her. i only knew that if i kicked and bit and wriggled hard enough, the people holding me back from killing her would give up and i could accomplish my goal. if i could just get one hand on her, i knew she wouldn't walk away without a chunk of flesh missing. my small body felt enormous with power. i wanted to kick her feet out from under her so that she fell sideways, dumb, and then i would grab her hair and pull her head up, then puch her back dwn by the forhead. after that became tedious, i would either stand up and start stomping on her skull with my bare feet, water still dripping off my body, or wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze. oooh- or maybe i would stand up and stomp on her neck. i can imagine the feeling of her adams apple crunching under the arch of my foot- i can taste the iron in the blood that would gush onto her tastebuds.
by then i would be spent. i would stand there panting while everyone looked on in horror. a siren would wail in the distance, the camera would fade to black.
i guess i didn't really want to kill her, or i didn't want to suffer the consequences of it at least.
about halfway through my second bottle, i declared to myself that champagne was, from that point on, my drink of choice.
i had started drinking shortly after i got out of bed, which sounds bad, but in reality it was three in the afternoon, so it was really quite reasonable. i wanted to drink because i was bored, and i couldn't think of anything else that would be as fun and which would require such little effort. so i got the bottles with big, fat corks that are impossible to put in once removed, which makes it necessary to finish the whole bottle before it goes flat so that no money is wasted, and it was about halfway through my second bottle that don called and said he was picking me up in five minutes.
i downed the rest of the bottle and waited.
the water felt good on my skin. my senses were hightened. the grittiness of the cement on my bare behind, the tiny air bubbles tickling my body as they escaped to the surface of the hot tub. my soul was peaceful. meanwhile, my body was waring.
i don't know why i was so angry at the girl, or why i attempted to kill her. i only knew that if i kicked and bit and wriggled hard enough, the people holding me back from killing her would give up and i could accomplish my goal. if i could just get one hand on her, i knew she wouldn't walk away without a chunk of flesh missing. my small body felt enormous with power. i wanted to kick her feet out from under her so that she fell sideways, dumb, and then i would grab her hair and pull her head up, then puch her back dwn by the forhead. after that became tedious, i would either stand up and start stomping on her skull with my bare feet, water still dripping off my body, or wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze. oooh- or maybe i would stand up and stomp on her neck. i can imagine the feeling of her adams apple crunching under the arch of my foot- i can taste the iron in the blood that would gush onto her tastebuds.
by then i would be spent. i would stand there panting while everyone looked on in horror. a siren would wail in the distance, the camera would fade to black.
i guess i didn't really want to kill her, or i didn't want to suffer the consequences of it at least.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
it is my experience
it has been my experience that weirdo's hum. they hum when they are uncomfortable or nervous. this is very irritating to me for a reaason i'm sort of ashamed to admit: it's like they are retarded or they are reverting back to childhood. sometimes i feel people like that should be gathered up and exiled to leper island.
don't get me wrong, humming is alright when your humming along to the radio, rocking a baby to sleep, but any other instance, particularly ones that coincide with a far away stare a slight rocking back and forth, should not be tolerated.
it has been my experience that weirdo's hum. they hum when they are uncomfortable or nervous. this is very irritating to me for a reaason i'm sort of ashamed to admit: it's like they are retarded or they are reverting back to childhood. sometimes i feel people like that should be gathered up and exiled to leper island.
don't get me wrong, humming is alright when your humming along to the radio, rocking a baby to sleep, but any other instance, particularly ones that coincide with a far away stare a slight rocking back and forth, should not be tolerated.
Friday, July 30, 2004
how oprah ruined my life, and other wailings of my heart
the day my mother followed (like so many other desparate, obese women in america) oprahs advice to starve themselves thin by drinking 3 or 4 nutritional shakes a day, was the day my disdain began. at first i was thrilled that the incessant complaints, 'i'm so fat", and insecurities that went with it might be at an end, but i would soon realize that i was in for something much worse than that. soon after starting the diet came the mood swings, then the frustration at not making progress, then the time i found her in the kitchen chewing rice and spitting it out, just to get some "flavor" (also one of the first times i realized that my mother was insane).
you see, oprah is always harping on the insecurities of women, which makes my life even harder. for instance, i can hardly read any classic literature anymore because all the covers bear the badge of "oprahs book club". i wanted to read anna karenina because i heard a reference in a movie about her leaving her lover because she suddenly realized his ears were enormous, but when i saw the book, it bore the badge, and leo tolstoys words will be forever lost to me.
and another thing. i simply hate the fact that o is an icon to millions of sad, desparate housewifes everywhere. what is so great about her? is it because she says "you go girl" once in a while, or what? i just don't see it. i mean, she's definitely no martha stewart.
the day my mother followed (like so many other desparate, obese women in america) oprahs advice to starve themselves thin by drinking 3 or 4 nutritional shakes a day, was the day my disdain began. at first i was thrilled that the incessant complaints, 'i'm so fat", and insecurities that went with it might be at an end, but i would soon realize that i was in for something much worse than that. soon after starting the diet came the mood swings, then the frustration at not making progress, then the time i found her in the kitchen chewing rice and spitting it out, just to get some "flavor" (also one of the first times i realized that my mother was insane).
you see, oprah is always harping on the insecurities of women, which makes my life even harder. for instance, i can hardly read any classic literature anymore because all the covers bear the badge of "oprahs book club". i wanted to read anna karenina because i heard a reference in a movie about her leaving her lover because she suddenly realized his ears were enormous, but when i saw the book, it bore the badge, and leo tolstoys words will be forever lost to me.
and another thing. i simply hate the fact that o is an icon to millions of sad, desparate housewifes everywhere. what is so great about her? is it because she says "you go girl" once in a while, or what? i just don't see it. i mean, she's definitely no martha stewart.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
"I'm going to ask you a question, and you have to answer, "'why?'"... I'm calling the Fire Department." This form an eighty year old man that I was shuttling to the Fresno Convention Center so that he could compete in the nine ball tournanment at the 18th Annual National Golden Age Games, a sort of special olympics for veterans.
"Why?", I dutifully responded.
"Because you've set my heart on fire!!!", he replied with the exuberance of a much younger man. I laughed as if I had never heard anything funnier, and at that moment, in my mind, nothing I had ever heard was as funny. I asked him how long he had been using that line and how many women he had ever caught with it. He told me he had been throwing it out for two years and it had never brought him a catch yet, which made me wonder what this man was doing, at age eighty, hitting on wemon. An then I realized that aside from his pudgy, saggy exterior, was the same man he was at age 50, and age 25. Only his body had betrayed him, and his mind and his labido were still firing on all cylinders. Here I was, shuttling thousands of senior citizens to and from their discus throwing, swim races, bowling tournaments, and I laughed at the joke of getting older. Just when you think you "have it", and when you are at your best mentally, with ninety, one hundred years of experience behind you, you look in the mirror and see that although you are ready for another hundred, your body is not. I guess it may seem sad, but my sense is that all those old fogies are not crying- their experience has taught them that life is too short to not laugh.
"Why?", I dutifully responded.
"Because you've set my heart on fire!!!", he replied with the exuberance of a much younger man. I laughed as if I had never heard anything funnier, and at that moment, in my mind, nothing I had ever heard was as funny. I asked him how long he had been using that line and how many women he had ever caught with it. He told me he had been throwing it out for two years and it had never brought him a catch yet, which made me wonder what this man was doing, at age eighty, hitting on wemon. An then I realized that aside from his pudgy, saggy exterior, was the same man he was at age 50, and age 25. Only his body had betrayed him, and his mind and his labido were still firing on all cylinders. Here I was, shuttling thousands of senior citizens to and from their discus throwing, swim races, bowling tournaments, and I laughed at the joke of getting older. Just when you think you "have it", and when you are at your best mentally, with ninety, one hundred years of experience behind you, you look in the mirror and see that although you are ready for another hundred, your body is not. I guess it may seem sad, but my sense is that all those old fogies are not crying- their experience has taught them that life is too short to not laugh.
Friday, June 18, 2004
the assassin
it seems that my life started in 1983, or at least that's when i became conscious of myself. those were the salad days- the days between age four and nine, the days when my family lived at Oak Hill Ranch, and life seemed innocent. it's odd that my retrospective memories of events and the way they seemed to me at that time seem to occur in paralel dimensions. the stories are all honey-colored in my minds eye, but become twisted and dark when i think of them with adult rationale.
it's odd that i don't remember my father being gone, or missing him while he was absent, or even where he was at. it's odd that i don't blame him for making my mother sick with his absence because i figured that she had always been sick- that's the way i've always known her to be. at the time things seemed normal, mom was always very supportive of my and my brothers individual personalities and kept us constantly busy with some sort of crafty, creative project. she kept us busy so that we wouldn't notice our father being gone. she did it all, from teaching us to bake cookies, to explaining the "birds and the bees"- with the help of i'm ok, you're ok.
so i guess that's why i never questioned the loaded .22 pistol that she kept on her nightstand while dad was gone, and i guess that's why i didn't cry after i heard the gunshot ricochet through the hills after our dogs, ben and brownie pulled the lamb to pieces the previous night.
i was sitting on the raised, rocked edge of the flagpole mound in the middle of our driveway when she came back from the field. i was sitting there, amoung the blood still on the foxtails- from the brutal murder of that night, picking the chamomile and smashing it in my hands to produce the intoxicating scent. i sat there, and i watched her walk back from the field and i knew that ben was gone.
ben was my grandpa bruce's dog. he was an old black lab that had a heart of gold. he and our new puppy brownie had become fast friends and my brother and i delighted in watching ben teach brownie how to be a ranch dog. he showed brownie to always run ahead of us, to make sure there were no snakes or bobcats waiting to get us, to run behind the truck when we went for an evening ride in case we fell out. ben wouldn't let brownie eat from our hands- or eat period- while people were present. they were gentle with us and we trusted them- they were our protectors.
and that's why it's odd that they crept, in the middle of the night to the flagpole in the middle of our driveway where our lamb was tied up for the night and ripped him in half. as brownie's teeth sunk into the supple flesh of the lamb, ben took the hind quarter in his jaw and pulled, until it's spine stretched, snapped, and then gave way, and ben and brownie, away from the eyes of man, ate.
the next morning, at twightlight, i awakened to the sound of a truck coming into the yard. through my bedroom window, through sleepy eyes and flower-patterned curtains, i saw the men fight to take brownie away. i saw his eyes, distant, raging; heard his distant relatives crying out through him, sensing captivity. they took him away, and my mother took her .22 off of her nightstand and went into the hills in search of ben.
it took her all day to get him- it was the dusty part of the late afternoon when she passed me at the flagpole. when our eyes met, i knew what she had done, and she knew that i knew what she had done, but we didn't speak. she just went to the house and put her .22 back on her nightstand, changed her blood-spattered clothes and started cooking dinner for me and my brother.
it seems that my life started in 1983, or at least that's when i became conscious of myself. those were the salad days- the days between age four and nine, the days when my family lived at Oak Hill Ranch, and life seemed innocent. it's odd that my retrospective memories of events and the way they seemed to me at that time seem to occur in paralel dimensions. the stories are all honey-colored in my minds eye, but become twisted and dark when i think of them with adult rationale.
it's odd that i don't remember my father being gone, or missing him while he was absent, or even where he was at. it's odd that i don't blame him for making my mother sick with his absence because i figured that she had always been sick- that's the way i've always known her to be. at the time things seemed normal, mom was always very supportive of my and my brothers individual personalities and kept us constantly busy with some sort of crafty, creative project. she kept us busy so that we wouldn't notice our father being gone. she did it all, from teaching us to bake cookies, to explaining the "birds and the bees"- with the help of i'm ok, you're ok.
so i guess that's why i never questioned the loaded .22 pistol that she kept on her nightstand while dad was gone, and i guess that's why i didn't cry after i heard the gunshot ricochet through the hills after our dogs, ben and brownie pulled the lamb to pieces the previous night.
i was sitting on the raised, rocked edge of the flagpole mound in the middle of our driveway when she came back from the field. i was sitting there, amoung the blood still on the foxtails- from the brutal murder of that night, picking the chamomile and smashing it in my hands to produce the intoxicating scent. i sat there, and i watched her walk back from the field and i knew that ben was gone.
ben was my grandpa bruce's dog. he was an old black lab that had a heart of gold. he and our new puppy brownie had become fast friends and my brother and i delighted in watching ben teach brownie how to be a ranch dog. he showed brownie to always run ahead of us, to make sure there were no snakes or bobcats waiting to get us, to run behind the truck when we went for an evening ride in case we fell out. ben wouldn't let brownie eat from our hands- or eat period- while people were present. they were gentle with us and we trusted them- they were our protectors.
and that's why it's odd that they crept, in the middle of the night to the flagpole in the middle of our driveway where our lamb was tied up for the night and ripped him in half. as brownie's teeth sunk into the supple flesh of the lamb, ben took the hind quarter in his jaw and pulled, until it's spine stretched, snapped, and then gave way, and ben and brownie, away from the eyes of man, ate.
the next morning, at twightlight, i awakened to the sound of a truck coming into the yard. through my bedroom window, through sleepy eyes and flower-patterned curtains, i saw the men fight to take brownie away. i saw his eyes, distant, raging; heard his distant relatives crying out through him, sensing captivity. they took him away, and my mother took her .22 off of her nightstand and went into the hills in search of ben.
it took her all day to get him- it was the dusty part of the late afternoon when she passed me at the flagpole. when our eyes met, i knew what she had done, and she knew that i knew what she had done, but we didn't speak. she just went to the house and put her .22 back on her nightstand, changed her blood-spattered clothes and started cooking dinner for me and my brother.
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
glamour
i've wanted to be an alcoholic ever since i was old enough to have an eating disorder. my love affair with self-destruction began at birth, i guess. one of my first memories is being on "time out" when i was 3yrs old and thinking my thighs were fat. it made me so sad that i attempted (at the age of 3!) to stick a key into a light socket. additionally, my favorite childhood playtime props was either a white or brown crayon that i pretended were cigarettes. and remember candy cigaretts? my mom even used to light them on fire.
all of my life, i have thought nothing as glamorous as self destructive acts. maybe it was because i grew up in the eighties when self-loathing was pop culture. could i, as a toddler, have been affected by the fast paced cocaine lifestyle that my parents lived? it was nothing to find a mirror, tiny straw, and a razor in my mothers purse, for my father to bring home some big-breasted blonde while my mother was out of town. i guess if a child grows up with that sort of influence, it's likely to have some effect.
i've wanted to be an alcoholic ever since i was old enough to have an eating disorder. my love affair with self-destruction began at birth, i guess. one of my first memories is being on "time out" when i was 3yrs old and thinking my thighs were fat. it made me so sad that i attempted (at the age of 3!) to stick a key into a light socket. additionally, my favorite childhood playtime props was either a white or brown crayon that i pretended were cigarettes. and remember candy cigaretts? my mom even used to light them on fire.
all of my life, i have thought nothing as glamorous as self destructive acts. maybe it was because i grew up in the eighties when self-loathing was pop culture. could i, as a toddler, have been affected by the fast paced cocaine lifestyle that my parents lived? it was nothing to find a mirror, tiny straw, and a razor in my mothers purse, for my father to bring home some big-breasted blonde while my mother was out of town. i guess if a child grows up with that sort of influence, it's likely to have some effect.
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
close to the edge
i'm one the verge of a nervous breakdown. it's my little secret though, so i am very careful not to let it show. i keep a smile on my face in an effort not to spit in the faces of the proletariats who pass as functioning citizens. i only let my self go at night when i know nobody will see, but stop myself from crying after a while because my face will be very puffy the next morning otherwise. once i couldn't stop from crying and my face resembled a newborn baby the next day. all day long people would say that i looked terrible, or else they would not say anything and politely recoil in disgust. i wake in the middle of the night in a terror, cold sweat stuck to my brow and my breasts. i wake in a panic, as if there is a stone left unturned, some avenue not explored, as if i remembered that i left the coffee pot on.
this has been going on for months, this feeling that something is amiss. i feel like a failure. i don't feel smart enough, pretty enough, responsible enough- i feel mediocre, and to me, that is the worst thing ever. i was watching television the other day and a preview for the day after tomorrow and i wished that something that catostrophic would happen so that the stress, the competition, the on and on would stop.
i'm one the verge of a nervous breakdown. it's my little secret though, so i am very careful not to let it show. i keep a smile on my face in an effort not to spit in the faces of the proletariats who pass as functioning citizens. i only let my self go at night when i know nobody will see, but stop myself from crying after a while because my face will be very puffy the next morning otherwise. once i couldn't stop from crying and my face resembled a newborn baby the next day. all day long people would say that i looked terrible, or else they would not say anything and politely recoil in disgust. i wake in the middle of the night in a terror, cold sweat stuck to my brow and my breasts. i wake in a panic, as if there is a stone left unturned, some avenue not explored, as if i remembered that i left the coffee pot on.
this has been going on for months, this feeling that something is amiss. i feel like a failure. i don't feel smart enough, pretty enough, responsible enough- i feel mediocre, and to me, that is the worst thing ever. i was watching television the other day and a preview for the day after tomorrow and i wished that something that catostrophic would happen so that the stress, the competition, the on and on would stop.
Monday, May 24, 2004
addict
friday, i made my weekly pilgrimage to GNC where i regularly spend at least an hour reading the labels on the shiny plastic bottles in hopes of discovering the combination of ingredients that will make my life perfect. on this particular day, after reading about the "perricone prescription", i decided that i needed more salmon oil in my life in order to have gorgeous skin. i also felt that i needed some sort of diet pill because i now wear a size eight vice six or four. after reading the labels of over 15 bottles, i settled on chromium picolinate. i really wanted to get a lot of other things, like liquid aloe vera, green powder that cost over $45, and some low carb shakes. i held back though.
when i finally meandered over to the checkout counter that cashier was very friendly. it wasn't until he said "sign here again", in reference to my debit receipt that i realized i have a problem. this cashier knew who i was because i frequented that place more than a normal person should. i am a vitamin addict.
is it so wrong? i could be a soda addict, cocaine addict, credit card addict. is there a potential for an overdose on vitamins- and let me clarify that i don't take a lot of the same vitamins, just lots of different ones. right now, for instance, i am taking a multivitamin, a hair skin and nails vitamin, a "labido boosting" vitamin, salmon oil, chromium, and he occasional acidophilis. too many? i don't think so, especially considering that these pills are all very beneficial to my wellbeing. i really don't think i would be as pretty, energetic, smart, etc, without them.
so yes. my name is trish, and i am an addict.
friday, i made my weekly pilgrimage to GNC where i regularly spend at least an hour reading the labels on the shiny plastic bottles in hopes of discovering the combination of ingredients that will make my life perfect. on this particular day, after reading about the "perricone prescription", i decided that i needed more salmon oil in my life in order to have gorgeous skin. i also felt that i needed some sort of diet pill because i now wear a size eight vice six or four. after reading the labels of over 15 bottles, i settled on chromium picolinate. i really wanted to get a lot of other things, like liquid aloe vera, green powder that cost over $45, and some low carb shakes. i held back though.
when i finally meandered over to the checkout counter that cashier was very friendly. it wasn't until he said "sign here again", in reference to my debit receipt that i realized i have a problem. this cashier knew who i was because i frequented that place more than a normal person should. i am a vitamin addict.
is it so wrong? i could be a soda addict, cocaine addict, credit card addict. is there a potential for an overdose on vitamins- and let me clarify that i don't take a lot of the same vitamins, just lots of different ones. right now, for instance, i am taking a multivitamin, a hair skin and nails vitamin, a "labido boosting" vitamin, salmon oil, chromium, and he occasional acidophilis. too many? i don't think so, especially considering that these pills are all very beneficial to my wellbeing. i really don't think i would be as pretty, energetic, smart, etc, without them.
so yes. my name is trish, and i am an addict.
Friday, May 21, 2004
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
yo, yo
i am concerned. i watched a program on vh-1 sunday, about celebrity diets. these people are freaks! they were on everything from the zone to the raw diet, and some stuff i've never heard of. needless to say that as a victim of pop media, i was inspired to go on a diet. now who's crazy? with so many to choose from, i'm entirley overwhelmed. low carb, low fat, low dairy, low calorie, etc. it's enough to make a girl anorexic.
in a separate celebrity special highlighting the life of lisa marie presley, there was an interesting tidbit on scientology. i am so enamored with "secret" religions. what do these people know that i don't, and how do i fing out what they know. all kinds of celebrities are into scientology, and the funny thing is, once they get into it, they never give it up. tom cruise broke up with penelope because she wouldn't convert! what is so great that tom won't give up, and so horrible that penelope would toss a love affair with tom cruise out the window?
i looked through the scientology site and found it intriuging, only because it's so cult-ish. let me know what you guys think.
i am concerned. i watched a program on vh-1 sunday, about celebrity diets. these people are freaks! they were on everything from the zone to the raw diet, and some stuff i've never heard of. needless to say that as a victim of pop media, i was inspired to go on a diet. now who's crazy? with so many to choose from, i'm entirley overwhelmed. low carb, low fat, low dairy, low calorie, etc. it's enough to make a girl anorexic.
in a separate celebrity special highlighting the life of lisa marie presley, there was an interesting tidbit on scientology. i am so enamored with "secret" religions. what do these people know that i don't, and how do i fing out what they know. all kinds of celebrities are into scientology, and the funny thing is, once they get into it, they never give it up. tom cruise broke up with penelope because she wouldn't convert! what is so great that tom won't give up, and so horrible that penelope would toss a love affair with tom cruise out the window?
i looked through the scientology site and found it intriuging, only because it's so cult-ish. let me know what you guys think.
Friday, May 14, 2004
forms of media
i'm very into talk radio. last night, while driving home from class, a story was talking about the drama over prisoners in iraq. case in point was the the sexual exploits of the military police, especially some girl named SPC England. according to this report, england was engaging in sexual acts with other MP's while the prisoners were forced to watch. how distasteful. this girl gives a bad name to females in military combat. look at her picture- she's an ugly one too! and the guy that she's "engaged" to? yeah, he's ugly also. no wonder the iraqi detainee's are making such a fuss.
what really enraged me was a statement that she made. she claimed that her chain of command ordered her to abuse prisoners. she didn't admit to the sexual antics until pictures and even video (if you find the video, let me know). they should let me decide what punishment this girl should get. everyone knows that military members only have to follow "lawful" orders. since when is being sexually free in front of prisoners of war legal? i hope this bitch chokes.
i'm very into talk radio. last night, while driving home from class, a story was talking about the drama over prisoners in iraq. case in point was the the sexual exploits of the military police, especially some girl named SPC England. according to this report, england was engaging in sexual acts with other MP's while the prisoners were forced to watch. how distasteful. this girl gives a bad name to females in military combat. look at her picture- she's an ugly one too! and the guy that she's "engaged" to? yeah, he's ugly also. no wonder the iraqi detainee's are making such a fuss.
what really enraged me was a statement that she made. she claimed that her chain of command ordered her to abuse prisoners. she didn't admit to the sexual antics until pictures and even video (if you find the video, let me know). they should let me decide what punishment this girl should get. everyone knows that military members only have to follow "lawful" orders. since when is being sexually free in front of prisoners of war legal? i hope this bitch chokes.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
economics
i signed up for this accelerated macroeconomics class. the class is three weeks long, twenty four hours per week, with eight of those hours on a saturday. on top of the grueling hours, there is the attention this course demands: the instructor actually wants us to pay attention to the economy! he suggests we subscribe the wsj, otherwise known as the wall street journal, and barons. i have a hard enough time listening to npr, which i manage to squeeze in during my half hour commute to/from work.
my plate is full. i requested to go on an around the horn cruise with the reagan. not that i want to be on a ship for two months, but the prospect of setting foot on my fifth continent is persuasive. i want it so bad. i want a lot of things so bad.
1. i want out of the navy
2. i want lots of scholarships to college
3. i want a job that i love
4. i want a job that pays a ton of money
5. i want to be content with what i have
i signed up for this accelerated macroeconomics class. the class is three weeks long, twenty four hours per week, with eight of those hours on a saturday. on top of the grueling hours, there is the attention this course demands: the instructor actually wants us to pay attention to the economy! he suggests we subscribe the wsj, otherwise known as the wall street journal, and barons. i have a hard enough time listening to npr, which i manage to squeeze in during my half hour commute to/from work.
my plate is full. i requested to go on an around the horn cruise with the reagan. not that i want to be on a ship for two months, but the prospect of setting foot on my fifth continent is persuasive. i want it so bad. i want a lot of things so bad.
1. i want out of the navy
2. i want lots of scholarships to college
3. i want a job that i love
4. i want a job that pays a ton of money
5. i want to be content with what i have
Monday, May 10, 2004
long time gone
this seems to be a day of renewal. i got an email from mr. brad petty who has been a decided missing peice of the puzzle that is my life for quit some time. similarly, my obesession with blogging is refreshed after six months of sabbatical. spring has, indeed, sprung in my life.
i made a mix cd last night and it has a good amount of my favorite songs, including: PIMP, Under Pressure, Creep, etcetera. As I was listening to these songs today I noticed a theme, one of inspiration, achievement, and living the good life. I was pleased to see that my tastes inherently involve such positive themes.
this seems to be a day of renewal. i got an email from mr. brad petty who has been a decided missing peice of the puzzle that is my life for quit some time. similarly, my obesession with blogging is refreshed after six months of sabbatical. spring has, indeed, sprung in my life.
i made a mix cd last night and it has a good amount of my favorite songs, including: PIMP, Under Pressure, Creep, etcetera. As I was listening to these songs today I noticed a theme, one of inspiration, achievement, and living the good life. I was pleased to see that my tastes inherently involve such positive themes.
Friday, January 30, 2004
Thursday, January 29, 2004
where there's smoke...
i want to not smoke. i say that instead of "i want to stop smoking" because the latter sounds cliche. i want to not smoke for several reasons, the most important being that it ruins ones sex drive, and i like sex. something about constricted blood vessels, lack of oxygen, medical jargon, etc. a close second is the hair loss factor. i'm not sure if it's true, but i'm not taking any chances with that one. it's hard to not do it though. stress, alcohol, stress, coffee, stress all make me want to light up.
i woke up this morning and felt like crying. solution: have a ciggy! now i feel better. i know i'm crazy, but a girls gotta have a vice, right?
have i mentioned that while i was in chicago i got this fabulous blush? its called "style" and it fucking rocks! it's everything i could ask for in a blush- i highly reccomend it. luv, luv.
i want to not smoke. i say that instead of "i want to stop smoking" because the latter sounds cliche. i want to not smoke for several reasons, the most important being that it ruins ones sex drive, and i like sex. something about constricted blood vessels, lack of oxygen, medical jargon, etc. a close second is the hair loss factor. i'm not sure if it's true, but i'm not taking any chances with that one. it's hard to not do it though. stress, alcohol, stress, coffee, stress all make me want to light up.
i woke up this morning and felt like crying. solution: have a ciggy! now i feel better. i know i'm crazy, but a girls gotta have a vice, right?
have i mentioned that while i was in chicago i got this fabulous blush? its called "style" and it fucking rocks! it's everything i could ask for in a blush- i highly reccomend it. luv, luv.
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
sevent to go
seven days 'till land, and i can't wait. i've watched more espn in the last week than i have in my life. i've actually started to like basketball. nothing much ever happens on the ship- only drama. it's like every emotion is concentrated to the boiling point. after a week, ugly guys start looking good, your best friend is your enemy, and garbage tastes good. it's amazing..
once off the boat, dave, bass and i are going to party it up in SD. The next day, we're going to head back, only stopping to have lunch with bass' brother in the oc. saturday we're having a "stip and go naked" party. thanks nikki for the recipe. it's sure to be a good time.
seven days 'till land, and i can't wait. i've watched more espn in the last week than i have in my life. i've actually started to like basketball. nothing much ever happens on the ship- only drama. it's like every emotion is concentrated to the boiling point. after a week, ugly guys start looking good, your best friend is your enemy, and garbage tastes good. it's amazing..
once off the boat, dave, bass and i are going to party it up in SD. The next day, we're going to head back, only stopping to have lunch with bass' brother in the oc. saturday we're having a "stip and go naked" party. thanks nikki for the recipe. it's sure to be a good time.
Saturday, January 24, 2004
bpo
as the berthing petty officer (bpo), i am responsible for about eleven females, the cleanliness of the berthing, and the overall atmosphere of the berthing. well, in the last week we've had two incidences that put my leadership skills to a test.
the first incident involed a close aquaintence who is recently engaged to be married. she brought it to my attention that she was bringing said fiance into the berthing at night to sleep with her. obviously, this is against every rule in the navy. not only was i uncomfortable with her stupid boyfriend in there (right above me nontheless), but imagine someone else seeing him and freaking out!! The command found out about it, and yelled at her, very lucky for her since most people wouold have gone to mast, but she had the nerve to get mad at me! not only did i get in trouble for not "knowing" about it, but now i have her bitchy ass to contend with. i should have fucking told the co of the ship.
the second incident happened last night, when i got a phone call from above mentioned bitch, complaining about one of the other girls's rack. this girl has always had hygiene problems,and i guess the smell wafting through the berthing had the girls in a tizzy. i asked pn3 if she had clean clothes and whatnot, and she admitted that she had been wearing the same skivvys over and over. that's just sad. i made here change her sheets, put all of her clothes in the laundry, buy new skivvys, and she's to take two showers a day. sad, sad.
as the berthing petty officer (bpo), i am responsible for about eleven females, the cleanliness of the berthing, and the overall atmosphere of the berthing. well, in the last week we've had two incidences that put my leadership skills to a test.
the first incident involed a close aquaintence who is recently engaged to be married. she brought it to my attention that she was bringing said fiance into the berthing at night to sleep with her. obviously, this is against every rule in the navy. not only was i uncomfortable with her stupid boyfriend in there (right above me nontheless), but imagine someone else seeing him and freaking out!! The command found out about it, and yelled at her, very lucky for her since most people wouold have gone to mast, but she had the nerve to get mad at me! not only did i get in trouble for not "knowing" about it, but now i have her bitchy ass to contend with. i should have fucking told the co of the ship.
the second incident happened last night, when i got a phone call from above mentioned bitch, complaining about one of the other girls's rack. this girl has always had hygiene problems,and i guess the smell wafting through the berthing had the girls in a tizzy. i asked pn3 if she had clean clothes and whatnot, and she admitted that she had been wearing the same skivvys over and over. that's just sad. i made here change her sheets, put all of her clothes in the laundry, buy new skivvys, and she's to take two showers a day. sad, sad.
Friday, January 23, 2004
scrapbook
is it me, or have scrapbooks become the new tivo? it seems that suddenly the word is on the tip of every domestic tongue, not to mentioin the shops (entire shops!) devoted to these things. are there that many people out there making scrapbooks as to necessitate multiple places in which to purchase materials, and who would these people be? love sick high school girls who just got back from some camp (summer, fat, band), housewives who have nothing better to do? what gives?
it's getting to be tax season again, and i'm always interested in what people spend their returns on because i think it speaks volumes about the person. i'm torn between buying furniture and taking a trip. if i buy the furniture, it would satisfy the domestic side of me and make me feel more stable, but the trip would satisfy my adventurous side and make me feel more alive. decisions, decisions. let me know what y'all are spending yours on.
is it me, or have scrapbooks become the new tivo? it seems that suddenly the word is on the tip of every domestic tongue, not to mentioin the shops (entire shops!) devoted to these things. are there that many people out there making scrapbooks as to necessitate multiple places in which to purchase materials, and who would these people be? love sick high school girls who just got back from some camp (summer, fat, band), housewives who have nothing better to do? what gives?
it's getting to be tax season again, and i'm always interested in what people spend their returns on because i think it speaks volumes about the person. i'm torn between buying furniture and taking a trip. if i buy the furniture, it would satisfy the domestic side of me and make me feel more stable, but the trip would satisfy my adventurous side and make me feel more alive. decisions, decisions. let me know what y'all are spending yours on.
Saturday, January 17, 2004
day one
first full day on the ship, and i have to admit that i've had a blast. i woke up still drunk and busted my ass all day to get our computers online. i've been shooting the shit with all the ships' company peeps in between running around. i even got a relatively long shower this morning! i went out with two dudes last night and had a rocking time. we- or i- was plastered. it was great.
day one: good.
first full day on the ship, and i have to admit that i've had a blast. i woke up still drunk and busted my ass all day to get our computers online. i've been shooting the shit with all the ships' company peeps in between running around. i even got a relatively long shower this morning! i went out with two dudes last night and had a rocking time. we- or i- was plastered. it was great.
day one: good.
Friday, January 02, 2004
j'adore 2004
my new years eve was spent at a hotel party which was attended by thousands of the most beautiful people in the 24-30 year old bracket. hot guys in suits were like milling about in packs, drinks were free and doubles were the norm. afterr the party, we spent forever outside trying to get a cab to this place called "leg room" whose name was decieving to say the least. once inside "leg room", it was like being in a tin of sardines, nuts to butt all the way, which wouldn't have been so bad if the nuts to my butt were attatched to a hotty. "leg room", we went to the apartment of two of the gentlemen we met at the bar an drank crown and diet dr. pepper. nikki sucked face with one of the dudes while i fell asleep standing up in the hallway. once nikki came out, we went to this all night diner where we met a gang of greeks who were all named george or demitri. they invited us to sit at their table and we all chatted and cracked jokes. the night ended at 0630 as nikki and i made the short walk back to her apartment, content as could be.
new year resolution:
1. be sexier
my new years eve was spent at a hotel party which was attended by thousands of the most beautiful people in the 24-30 year old bracket. hot guys in suits were like milling about in packs, drinks were free and doubles were the norm. afterr the party, we spent forever outside trying to get a cab to this place called "leg room" whose name was decieving to say the least. once inside "leg room", it was like being in a tin of sardines, nuts to butt all the way, which wouldn't have been so bad if the nuts to my butt were attatched to a hotty. "leg room", we went to the apartment of two of the gentlemen we met at the bar an drank crown and diet dr. pepper. nikki sucked face with one of the dudes while i fell asleep standing up in the hallway. once nikki came out, we went to this all night diner where we met a gang of greeks who were all named george or demitri. they invited us to sit at their table and we all chatted and cracked jokes. the night ended at 0630 as nikki and i made the short walk back to her apartment, content as could be.
new year resolution:
1. be sexier